U'darahje
by Omega45871
Summary: Humanity never knows when to quit...even when their creations blow up in their face over and over again. This is the story of one of their U'darahje... Abominations.
1. Prologue

UNMRO Zen (United Nations Military Research Outpost)

 **Location** : Siberia, Russia, Earth 5123′23.47″N 305′38.57″E

 **Purpose** : Multinational Military Research Outpost

 **Date** : UKN

 **Lead Scientists** : Dr. Sean Ridson and Dr. Zia Mikhailov

 **Total Science Officers** : 20

 **Military** : 62

 **Maintenance** : 18

 **Total Standing Personnel** : 100

Test Subjects -

 **Live** : 0

 **Deceased** :

572 Currently Preserved,

1,744 Incinerated

 _……………………………..Update……………….._

_systemprocessing

_commandrecieved

_rebootingsystemwithchanges…

_rebootingsystemwithchanges……

_rebootingsystemwithchanges………

 **Location** : Siberia, Russia, Earth 5123′23.47″N 305′38.57″E

 **Date** : UKN

Lead Scientists: Dr. Sean Ridson and Dr. Zia Mikhailov

Total Science Officers: 20

Military: 62

Maintenance: 18

Total Standing Personnel: 100

Test Subjects -

 **Live** : 1

 **Deceased** :

572 Currently Preserved,

1,744 Incinerated


	2. Awakening

Lights blinked into existence. A low hum filled the stagnant air, giving an illusion of substance to the room recently revealed. Stark white walls glared with opalescent emptiness. Nothing.

Something.

A hairline crack slowly drawn across the center of the room with the barely audible hiss of air escaping into a new prison. A container appeared, inch thick glass forming a vertical cylinder between two dull metal pressure locks. The opaque fluid inside rippled, jelly like, ever so slightly with its ascension. A single dark mass, the size of a grape, hung suspended in the center, rhythmic twitching barely visible.

On the other side of the glass window that made up one of the walls stood a row of dark figures, bleached white uniforms matching the room they peered into. A faint beeping accompanied the thing they observed, assuring them of its continued existence along with the dozens of other monitors currently humming with life. A man at the forefront of the crowd expelled a sudden hiss of air, those around him lapsing into brief spasms of surprise at the broken silence. Reluctantly, they tore their eyes from the scene in front of them to regard him with trepidation, unsure of his reaction. A smile cracked open his face, shredding the dead eyed mask he'd been wearing.

"Good."

A simple word, but shocking to everyone who heard him. He was never pleased, let alone expressive. He turned and left the control room without another word, clicking footsteps echoing down the hall. The gathered scientists glanced at each other in dread, but soon returned to monitoring and recording the thing imprisoned before them.

Growing.

Living.

New.

The tension was beyond palpable, a few people had even begun to tremble with anxiety and strained hope. They'd gotten this far before, but their subject died before fully maturing each and every time. So they'd further altered the genetic coding of their experiment. Thrown in a pinch of something new. Perhaps too new. But the Doctors weren't known for their patience. And neither was their employer. So they worked.

Weeks passed and expectations grew with the mass held within it's artificial womb. Eventually, it began to take form, no longer a amoeba-like thing twitching with barely held life.

After two months it resembled a human fetus. Its progress sped up, features beginning to appear, limbs forming, and movements becoming more fluid, more natural.

After six months it was ready. Now the size of a two year old child, and just as restless in its tank, their subject was mature enough to be "born".

{Log 192, Dr. Pogue recording. Number 2316 has progressed to a mature state stable enough for release. Dr. Mikhailov and Dr. Ridson are both present within the containment room, in full biohazard gear, along with four technicians to perform the release. Technicians are Henderson, Breeze, Amansin, and Neila. 2316's vitals are strong, heartbeat steady and brain activity at normal levels. They have remained akin to those of a typical human in REM sleep, leaving us to question the mental state 2316 may be in. A sort of dream-like trance perhaps? This is also hypothesized to be a side effect of the more extensive hybridization we have attempted. The others, this point, had activity we would expect in a conscious five year old, but 2316's have remained constant. Possibly this is due to a stronger mental link, or perhaps a deeper sensitivity to, the hive we have on board. Or our venture into deeper hybridization has stunted the mental processes and or abilities of this new subject. The answers to these questions are to be determined by further tests if 2316 survives extraction. The team has finished prepping for removal and will now proceed.}

The man speaking clicked off the recording, returning his full focus to the room ahead of him, his fellow researchers regathering as they had upon 2316's successful creation. Thirteen pairs of eyes tracked every minute detail and movement in the chamber as the Doctors and their assistants began to prep 2316 for extraction. First, the locks on either end of the tank were loosened, heavy clicks alerting the handlers of their success. Second, the containment area was prepped for their specimen, the once stark and desolate room now containing a single pallet, a blanket, and a small stream of water flowing automatically from a hole in the wall, a sort of fountain. Once this was done Dr. Mikhailov signalled to the people behind the glass, prompting a burst of activity as they all went to their respective stations for the most crucial step. Statuses were barked across the room, fingers twitched frantically across screens, and final checks were made. The man closest to the glass looked around nervously before meeting Dr. Ridson's gaze through the wall and giving a jerk constituting as a nod. Maintaining eye contact, the both steadied their respective stations and slowly lowered a pair of levers, one on the tank, another at the control panel. The gelatinous liquid within the capsule began to drain, at an agonizingly slow pace for those watching. They couldn't rush, no matter their eagerness. Gravity was a cruel force and the stability of their specimen when submitted to it was uncertain, not to mention the risks of its first exposure to the open air. So they waited.

Seconds ticked by like minutes.

Minutes passed like hours.

The full hour was eternity.

Finally, three quarters of the tank was drained. Now for the crucial second to last step. During development 2316 had grown in an inverted position, meaning if they allowed all of the liquid to drain completely there would be a much higher risk of injury or death. So they were going to have to "right" 2316. The team inside the room crept forward, almost afraid to move in the silence and stillness that had taken up residence during that hour. Three at each end, they caught each others eyes and nodded, huffing as they lifted the repository out of its base. Gingerly, with excruciating deliberateness, they rotated it, first into a horizontal position, then vertical once more. The viscous fluid inside dripped down, slowly revealing the face of the scientists newest…...patient. Expectant faces peered at….him? Her?

Or

It?

A rattle shattered the thoughts of those presence and the silence housing them. His….Its…..2316's chest spasmed as….they...took their first breath. Having been holding their breath unknowingly as well, the team observing 2316 sucked in a much needed breath as some of their tension fled at this small sign of success.

A few breaths later they felt comfortable enough to finish their task. The assistants held the tank steady while both doctors stepped up to the top hatch, each grabbing their respective valve before easing them counterclockwise in sync. A slow rasp signalled the first exchange of air between the capsule and an unregulated environment (by comparison). 2316's breath hitched, making them all freeze, hardly daring the look as 2316 seemed to struggle for a moment before resuming a regular pattern of breathing. As the doctors slowly continued to allow air inside after a moment's pause, 2316's breathing actually appeared to deepen, losing the disturbing wheeze it had held previously. A crack broke the air as they finally lifted to seal of the tank completely, setting it to the side and peering down at their creation without a barrier for the first time. 2316 was pale, an ashen white almost corpse like in quality. They were thin, sharp bones clearly visible, curled up in the fetal position they had always held. They seemed to have normal proportions, though their hands and feet were abnormally long, almost like they were a size bigger than the rest of them. Their face is what captured the scientists fascination, however. The others before them had all been disfigured in some small way, the deformations increasingly subtle as the numbers progressed, but definite nonetheless. 2316's was not immediately visible. Their face was ovular, sharp angles and cheekbones. An average nose, ears, and eyes seemingly, another first. Without fail at least one feature had been imperfect on the previous subjects, most likely due to the lack of such features in the xenomorph dna. 2316 was hairless, skin smooth and appearing soft. No discoloration other than the general hue. 2316's spine caught the Doctor's eyes as they scanned them for any abnormalities prior to any attempt to move 2316 to the examination table. The vertebrae were defined, far beyond the typical bumps in such a seemingly malnourished individual. They appeared pointed, larger, more like the segmented appearance of a Xenomorph tail than a human spine. 2316's legs were short compared to the proportions of the rest of their body, but had more muscle definition. Their fingers and toes were abnormally long and thin, already tipped with nails. While not quite claw-like in appearance they had a certain quality to them that suggested such a description. Dr. Ridson cleared his throat and began listing these qualities to be logged by the team behind the glass, stirring everyone back into movement. Then it was time. The assistants within the chamber pulled on reinforced shoulder length gloves on top of the biohazard gear they already wore before taking the Doctors place at the mouth of the capsule. Eyeing each other and the subject warily the slowly began to reach in. The bravest, a young woman with shoulder length red hair, was the first to make physical contact. A shaky finger gently touched 2316's head.

Nothing.

She caressed their head down to the shoulder, gently grasping them in preparation to lift them out of the chamber, another assistant hesitantly doing the same on the opposite side.

Still nothing.

Ever so carefully they began to lift, brows furrowing almost in unison at the weight of their charge. 2316 unfurled from their pose as they were lifted into a gurney, giving the first uninhibited view if their full body as they were carried over to the exam station. Their head was fairly human in shape, perhaps a little longer than typical. Ribs stood in Stark relief like every other bone, stomach hollow, and clavicles painful to look at. Their chest was oddly thick, bulky, despite their current state, but their waist tapered, much like a pitbull or bulldogs build. They didn't have nipples or a navel, the counters of their chest and abdomen smooth and uninterrupted. Their hips were thick, wide horizontally, narrow across, and the bones themselves appeared thicker than average through the skin. 2316 didn't appear to have an sexual characteristics, only unbroken skin visible between their legs. The last feature noted was their abnormally defined ball of their foot, which was almost paw like. Dr. Ridson placed two fingers at the junction of 2316's neck and jaw, brows furrowing as he counted out their pulse.

"135." He announced "Pulse feels strong, but let's get vitals and try to set a baseline for further monitoring."

Immediately the assistants snapped into action, monitors placed and calibrated, vitals jotted down with frantic excitement.

Hours passed, tests were run, and they all finally settled into waiting for 2316 to gain consciousness.

Nothing.

An IV was set up, their delight palpable when their experimental acid resistant metal withstood 2316's corrosive blood. It was nowhere near as strong as a xeno's, but this was promising nonetheless.

Days passed. No change.

A month crept by, disappointment and resignation taking over as there continued to be no sign of real life in their subject, despite tireless analysis of any possible problems. It took a moment of carelessness for their to be any sort of progress.

An assistant, frustrated by their lack of success, trudged through the daily routine of running blood work and other tests. He was buried in his thoughts, hands moving on autopilot. A sudden lance of pain made him yelp, jolting out of his thoughts. He looked down, sighing as he saw the needle sticking out of his palm, blood oozing around the puncture. He eased the offending object out, a spurt of blood following, before beginning to head out of the room to bandage himself. The slide of skin against metal stopped him immediately. His head eased to the side, eyes darting back to the table.

2316 had moved.

Their head had shifted to the right, towards the drops of blood that had landed on the slab they lay on. A quick glance at the monitors showed no change to any of their vitals, but even as he watched a long, thin, blackish pink tongue slithered out of their mouth to collect the blood, retracting a moment later.

He froze. Everyone watching froze.

A barely discernible swallow.

2316 started twitching, small at first, but rapidly progressing to full spasms. Their vitals spiked, snapping the trance the assistants seemed to have entered. Panic laced the air, all of them abruptly shouting instructions, but the young man in the cell was the first to act. His eyes darted between the twitching form before him and the still sleeping wound on his hand before nodding to himself. He brought the needle back up, swiftly hooking it up to the tubes they used for iv fluids, then inserted it into his basilic vein with a wince. As the red began to flow through the line he brought the other end, which he had left unattached to anything, up to 2316's lips. Fascination filled him as the first drops of blood pattered onto their lips, not even noticing how his observers quieted as they turned their focus back to him. That blackened tongue reappeared, swiping away the gift and encouraging the scientist to place the end of the line to their lips directly, slowly putting pressure to poke it inside their mouth. At first an odd cough racked their body, then it was his turn to jump as they latched on and began to suck.

No one came into the room when he began to sway. Or when to tried to pull the tubing away from 2316. Or when 2316 caught his hands in a vice grips when he tried to take out the needle.

They didn't come into the containment cell until well after he fell to the floor and lay still. Until the tubing fell from 2316's lips and they didn't move again.

They observed. Took notes. Watched.

Then they dragged him out to study as well.

No one is safe.


	3. Confusion

The world was bright.

Their first thought was of confusion and pain, eyes only just opened immediately slamming shut. Their face contracted in distaste as they turned their attention to the other sensations around them instead. At first they wondered what purpose the odd features on either side of their head served, but then.. A sound! They wanted to chitter with glee, but found their throat didn't quite work as it should, only emitting an odd, painful croak. More noises followed, drawing their focus once more. A sort of...sliding. Taps. An odd, rough... scratching? Was that the sound? Dimly, they realized they knew some of these things. Innately, something they simply contained. Instinct. They tried to move, managing to roll their head to the side, a stark sensation startling them. Cold? Hard? Smooth? They focused on the rest of their body for the first time, flexing gently to take stock of themselves. They were...weak.

This wasn't right.

Something was wrong.

They should already be up, should already have a purpose. Their gut was twisted, torn between that deep oddness and the conflicting urge to stay still, to...be afraid. Fear was the coldness that had crept up on them, they realized now. Fear of the unknown. Of the wrongness warring with what seemed to also be natural. He...he? They? She? A headache began to form, concepts far beyond a newly awakening brain already assaulting said consciousness. A distressed whine leaked from their core, the high pitch making them wince internally. This seemed to prompt more noises from beside them, redirecting their attention. A deep breath brought a fresh assault of information. A metallic tang lingered, seeming...distant almost. Old? A series of strange, almost sterile, signatures were more present, perhaps the source or sources of the noises. And then, there was their own smell. Subtle, but noticeable, unfamiliar as they were with any scent. It was a musky odor, laced with a sweetness, and almost...cool, perhaps, undercurrent. Like a viscous fluid smells. It was oddly comforting, by far the most present of any of the scents, filling the room, both old and current, indicating they had been in this one place before. It told them something when nothing seemed certain. They decided another attempt at sight was in order. Cautiously this time, they cracked open their eyes the barest amount. Light stabbed them once more, but they forced themselves the blink rapidly instead of simply shutting them once more. As they struggled the light suddenly dimmed, eventually reaching a tolerable level that allowed them to fully blink open their eyes for the first time.

A haze of pale colors greeted them, shapes and shades blending into one another as they squinted, waiting for the world to come into focus. And once it did, they were alone.

Somewhere between them opening their eyes and being able to actually see, whatever was making the noise before had left or stopped. That felt...wrong. The same twisting in their gut that told them they should be moving was nauseating at this point. Where were...others? There should be others. It shouldn't be this light, the bright walls, despite the lack of light, were painfully wrong. Dimly, they realized their breathing had begun to increase to a pant, eyes darting everywhere to take in the shiny things around them, in them. The whine returned, ear piercingly loud and high. He (yes, he, but that was wrong too) spasmed on whatever he lay on, trying and failing to get up, panicking even further upon realizing his muscles were too weak to support him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wronG, wroNG, wrONG, wRONG, WRONG, WRONG, WRONG, WRONG!

Fear turned to rage, eyes narrowing from their wild rolling as he abruptly stilled and bared his teeth, sucking in a full breath before roaring a screech that left his ears ringing. His muscles twitched uncontrollably as he forced himself to sit up with every ounce of strength he did have. Exhaustion was creeping into his bady, but he ignored it, head snapping around to observe the rest of the room. He was on some sort of...platform, no...table, that was the word. His surroundings were bare except for an odd thing in a corner. A...nest. Close enough. His vision pulsed with his heartbeat from the pain in every part of his body, particularly his head. Next to the...table...was a stick of some sort, a clear thing leading down to his forelimb. Arm? With a chirp of alarm he shakily reached over, swaying as his weight shifted, and pulled on the thing, drawing it out from under his hide. Skin? Red seeped from the puncture, an odd green sheen making it iridescent. Automatically he brought it up to his mouth and licked the flow away, the sheen of saliva quickly drying, holding it closed. He cocked his head, logging that information before peering at the rest of his body, trying to understand what felt so wrong. He didn't even realize he was tilting backwards until his back abruptly gave in and he fell onto the table once more with a grunt. His eyes fluttered, sliding closed against his will, sending him back into the abyss of unconsciousness.

The moment number 2316's eyes opened the scientists collective hearts seemed to stop beating. They got the barest glimpse of honey amber before 2316's face contorted in what seemed to be discomfort.

"Note possible light sensitivity." Dr. Mikhailov snapped, eyes gleaming with fascination as her subordinates scrambled into action, recording everything they could see.

"Get Weston out of the room, now." the second in command, Dr. Lyrn, ordered as they did so. The assistant closest to the glass waves frantically to catch the man insides attention before gesturing for him to return to the control room. At Weston's clear confusion the assistant gestured sharply at the subject, garnering an immediate haste to get back inside from the suddenly pale man. 2316 frowned, appearing to concentrate, possibly tracking Weston as he fled.

"Dim the lights."

They were rewarded.with a flurry of blinking at their subject managed to work their eyes open all the way this time. An almost yellow amber flickered into view, pupils barely visible pinpricks. 2316 began panic almost as soon as their eyes focussed, breath beginning to explode in and out, much to everyone's immediate alarm.

Lyrn barked out "Gas the room! Just enough to calm it down!" But was instantly dismissed by Mikhailov.

"No. Leave it. I want to see how it responds." The rest of them stared incredulously at her, but she simply gazed forward, fixed on the now squirming figure before them. A whine, gut wrenching to listen to, filled with confusion and fear, screamed from 2316, pulling their attention back to it. But just as Lyrn was about to disregard his superior, consequences be damned, it stilled. Muscles tense, but still. 2316's face suddenly contorted in clear rage, teeth bared in a rough snarl. They took in the sight of oversized canines and jagged molars, clearly for ripping instead of grinding, but were ripped from their reverie as it suddenly sucked in a massive breath, chest inflating to the point of ridiculousness. Then, any amusement was replaced with pure shock as an ear splitting roar of rage reverberated through the chamber, audible even in the supposedly soundproof control room. 2316's efforts to move doubled, with some progress actually being made, despite never having truly moved before. It sat up, visibly spasming with effort, head jerking around to take stock of its surroundings, eyes narrowed in concentration. A small smile graced Mikhailov's face at the chirp 2316 emitted upon spotting the iv and removing it, increasing as it raised its arm to its mouth, licking the wound and leaving a sheen of grey saliva behind. 2316 tilted its head, peering at the wound even as it swayed, eventually collapsing back onto the table with a thud, head connecting solidly with the metal. Out cold.

"Record your notes on the data file for this subject as well as all of the vitals and other observations. We have successfully merged Human and Xenomorph DNA."


End file.
